


Under control

by cynicalcryptids (TheLazyCroissant21)



Category: Original Work
Genre: Alcohol, Heavy BDSM, M/M, Original Character(s), Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Recreational Drug Use
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-11-18
Updated: 2018-11-18
Packaged: 2019-08-25 07:09:24
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,610
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16656559
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheLazyCroissant21/pseuds/cynicalcryptids
Summary: "Do I know that person?"Those words fell out of his mouth in a whisper, barely audible, but apparently enough for the unusual raven-haired man to hear him. With a stern clearing of his throat, he grabbed hold of the door handle and opened the door the rest of the way for him; slipping out into the cool New Jersey air, Briar turned just in time to see him flicking a lighter and releasing a flame, a thin plume of smoke arising from the cigarette he had at the corner of his mouth."You'll learn to," he answered.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> hello! this is a collaborative story put together by the cynical cryptids that are behind this account. the story will move along slowly, chapters will vary in length. there won't be any set updated schedule, but we'll try our best to update as we have the time to. 
> 
> each character, minor and major, are of our own creation, this is a purely original work. 
> 
> thanks for giving it a look!
> 
> \- croissant / xo cera

$2.50 seems like a lot for a water bottle, doesn't it? 

Briar sighs, staring at the choices in front of him. So many choices for the same thing; quite redundant. He reaches to grab two, almost knocking a third one off the rack and panicking, lurching hands forward to stop it from falling. 

_Clink._ Those bells on the door were nearly unidentifiable, they were so rusted over. Briar adjusted the two bottles in his hand and pushed the third one back into its slot, stepping back from the glass door and letting it shut with a poof of cold air. 

"The usual?" Briar looked up at the reflection in the glass, thinking the cashier was talking to him, but seeing the silhouette of another man standing near the front counter. He looked over the freezers for a moment before pulling one open and grabbing a couple of energy drinks from the case, and stopping to look over the other choices. 

"As always," a strong voice responded, thick with an Australian accent, followed by a breathy chuckle. Like an animal, Briar perks up at the sound of the odd accent, squinting at the figure in the reflection. The glass didn't do the man justice, the fog from the cold air blurring the figure to dark and light colors of clothing, and an outline of a hairstyle, but nothing more. Briar turned slightly, but looked back at the cold cases, worried he may be caught staring at a stranger. He opens the case in front of him, acting as if he forgot to grab something, and heard a smack against the counter at the front. "These too," the man added, "for good measure." A moment of silence, and then shuffling that got worryingly closer and louder as the seconds passed. Briar grabbed one of the energy drinks from his arm and stuffed it back into its slot, skimming the other choices to look like he wasn't just absently staring into the cold case. He could make out a change in color coming into view in his peripheral, and they expanded as the Australian stranger approached him. "'Scuse me, love," the man slipped quickly past, bumping into Briar's backpack on his way. "Sorry, sorry." Briar steps forward a bit, the cold air stinging his face and tinting his cheeks a light pink from the temperature change. He grabs a different flavor energy drink and shuts the case, turning and catching a quick glance of the man's face, but not enough to make out any defining features. He walks down the aisle and grabs a few packets of snacks, and heads to the front to pay. 

He drops the four bottles on the counter and pushes them and the snacks towards the cashier, pulling his wallet out for cash. As he thumbed through his money, he heard heavy boots shuffle lazily across the tile floor of the convenience store, nearing him. The cashier, an older-looking man, rung up his drinks with a few consecutive beeps and Briar graciously handed him a ten and a five with a polite half-smile. His items were bagged and handed to him along with his change. But as he turned to leave, the man stood in his path, much taller than he, opening a pack of Skittles. "I'm sorry to have interrupted you, but I just wanted to say..." he dumped half of the package of candy into his mouth, "you are the loveliest looking person in Atlantic City." Briar takes a step back when the man starts to speak, and can't help the smile tugging at his lips when he speaks to him with his mouth full. "Um, thank you," he responds, pushing his hand through his straggling bangs, completely avoiding eye contact. He shuffles with the bag in his hand and slips past the tall man, pushing the door open. 

_"Do I know that person?"_ Those words fell out of his mouth in a whisper, barely audible, but apparently enough for the unusual raven-haired man to hear him. With a stern clearing of his throat, he grabbed hold of the door handle and opened the door the rest of the way for him; slipping out into the cool New Jersey air, Briar turned just in time to see him flicking a lighter and releasing a flame, a thin plume of smoke arising from the cigarette he had at the corner of his mouth.

"You'll learn to," he answered.


	2. Chapter 2

_'You'll learn to.'_ What was that supposed to mean? Such an unusual thing to say to someone you never met. Maybe it was normal, and he was just missing something. But what would even lead someone to say something as cryptic as that to a complete stranger? He could still feel the eyes of the tall man looking down at him; piercing golden irises burning into his own-

"Yo, Briar... Hey, earth to Briar!" The blond was shaken by the sudden voice, dropping the pencil and wincing at the crack of the graphite against his paper. He turned to see his roommate, Charles, arms crossed over his chest like he'd been there for a while. "H-ow long have you been standing there?" Briar tries to find any source of time, scanning the room until he found the bright red numbers on his clock: quarter to 11. "Oh no, I didn't even realize it was so late!" He scrambled to put away his papers and threw the pencil into a cup haphazardly; Charles stepped back to avoid the flailing limbs, sighing. "Dude. I've had to have been standing here for at least five minutes trying to get your attention. What the hell has you so rattled that you didn't hear me?" Briar slowed at his friends' voice, hearing the concern. He pushed the papers into a binder and put it down, standing and stretching his arms out. "I'm sorry, I guess I was really spaced out. I'm really tired though, did you need something or were you just worried?" he asks, sitting on the lower bunk and bending to avoid hitting his head. "Well, I was trying to invite you out to come hit up the arcade with the other guys, but I guess if you're going to sleep, then never mind." Charles moves to the door and opens it, but pauses to look back at Briar. "Make sure you keep an eye on yourself, dude. I don't want you to be overworking yourself, you do so much already," he trails off, opening the door and stepping out. "Just...take care of yourself, Briar."

\--

He woke up the next day to his phone buzzing mercilessly underneath his pillow. Briar lifted himself up with a groan, grabbing the phone and squinting at the bright screen. 

9:43am.

"Ah, dammit!" He scrambled out of bed, pulling the comforter messily up over his two pillows and stopping to see himself in the reflection of his window. He stopped, taking a deep breath to steady himself. "Stop panicking. You don't have to be there on time, they have other staff." He pushes his hands through his hair to try and tame the nest of blond, and grabs some clothes from his closet to get ready. He must've made more of a racket than usual, because he could hear shuffling on the bed above his, and saw Charles pop up from the mound of blankets on the top bunk. "Dude, it's way too early for you to be freaking out like that. I could feel the whole room shake when you got out of your bed," he grumbled in a sleep-ridden voice, wiping the side of his face clean of the dried up spit. "I'm sorry, I was supposed to get to the daycare around 8:30, I'm over an hour later than usual." Charles just snickered at his friend, Briar shoving his legs into his khaki jeans all the while. "You really need to loosen up sometime soon, or you're gonna lose your youth years to volunteering and studying boring shit." Briar buttons his blue shirt and tucks it in messily to his jeans, looking over at his friend with a questioning look. "Well, at least I'll actually graduate at 23, and not 30, yeah?" And with that, he's out the door, leaving his friend dumbfounded and speechless.

The daycare was within walking distance of St. Catherine's, which was a plus for Briar. He never got his drivers' license while still in grade school, and he could never find time to properly learn how to drive, nor was anyone willing to spend the time to teach him. Fortunately, Atlantic City was pretty central, which made everything quite accessible to Briar and his friends in the dorms. It was mostly a plus for his friends, the Atlantic City nightlife was booming with casinos and neon lights all along the coast's strip; they always came back late, howling with laughter in the dorm hallways. Briar can recall the countless nights where he had trouble sleeping because the walls are so thin, he could hear nearly everything in every surrounding room, and then some. There was little pangs of regret when his friends would invite him out and he would decline the offers, but the rowdy crowds would probably overwhelm him.

The daycare finally came into view as he turned a corner, and he cleared his mind of the thoughts bouncing in his head.

\--

"Mr. O'Malley! Can you get the blocks for me?" A little redheaded girl called Briar over, jumping for a bag of colorful blocks shoved back on a high shelf. Briar smiled at the girl and pulled the bag out, crouching down in front of her and holding the bag in his hands. "Make sure you clean them up when you're done, Melanie. Your mom will be here soon to get you." The girl nodded enthusiastically and bounded off in another direction, her pigtails bouncing with every move. He stands back up and sees the receptionist out of the corner of his eye: a young woman with curly brown hair, bunched up in a clip on the back of her head. "Oh, Briar! There's someone asking for you at the front," she says with a crinkly smile. Briar tilts his head at this; only Charles and a couple of his professors knew he volunteered at the daycare. He maneuvers around the children running around at his feet, nearly tripping over a little dark-haired boy on his way. 

He comes through the swinging doors with the receptionist, and a man of tall statute and a grungy look comes into view, standing just outside of the front doors with a lit cigarette in hand. Briar stops dead in his tracks, wanting to go back to handling the kids before the man looks over at him, coaxing him over with a simple gesture of his hand. Briar huffs out a breath, walking to the front doors with a hunch in his shoulders. He pushes the door open, a rush of cold air hitting his face and neck, pushing his bangs back in an unruly manner. The man politely put out his half-smoked cigarette on the cinder block wall of the daycare, putting it carefully back into the pack it was pulled from. As he slid the carton into one of his jean pockets, he looked at Briar, studying him for a moment.

"Sorry, not sure if you're alright with smoking," he explains; Briar can hear a tinge of caution in his voice, and it calms him a bit. "It's quite alright, some of the parents here smoke," he says with a hint of a smile, but it contorts into an expression of confusion. "But you're not here to pick up a kid, are you?"

"Maybe, how old are you?" His tone exuded confidence. Briar felt like a deer caught in headlights as his jaw dropped; he wanted to retort, but nothing was coming forth. He closed his mouth and cleared his throat. "Um, anyways. Do you need me for something?" He stopped, and realization dawned on him fast. "Wait, I don't know you, how did you know where to find me?" 

"We met briefly, though you may not remember me." He moved his body to lean against the wall casually, attempting to remove some tension. "I bumped into you, called you lovely, ate some Skittles," he paused, waiting for a laugh from Briar that didn't come.

"Well, I saw your name tag, _Briar._ And the name of this place here was ironed on the back of your shirt. So don't give me too much credit."

Briar looked down at his powder blue button-up, seeing the tag pinned on his shirt. He wore the daycare's staff-given shirt yesterday because it was the cleanest thing he had ready at the time. "Oh." He rubs the back of his neck awkwardly, casting his eyes down. "Sorry- I didn't mean to snap at you. Today's been hectic." Briar looks back up at the tall male, struggling to make proper eye contact like a normal human being. 

"No apologies here, love. I actually found your snapping to be quite charming."

Briar flushed a bit at the nickname casually thrown into conversation; it must be normal for him, why is he getting so worked up over a little slip like that? He clears his throat awkwardly and folds his arms over his chest. "So, did you need something, or did you just come here to weird me out?" The tall man shrugs, pulling the unfinished cigarette back out of the carton and reigniting the end. "Wasn't my intention, I actually thought I'd come by and ask you out for lunch," he states bluntly, finishing with a cloud of smoke from his lips. Briar knits his eyebrows, "How can you ask someone you met by coincidence _one time_ out on lunch like we're old bros from college?" He shrugs again, as if his request wasn't the most unusual thing he'd done before. "Call it fate, I guess." Briar huffs at his casual response, getting frustrated like a child not getting their toys back. "Okay, wise guy, well...I'm gonna be busy for the rest of the day, so I'll have to respectfully decline." The older man laughs, a deep sound resonating low in his throat, making something unusual stir in Briar; he pushes off from the wall, tosses his finished cigarette down on the pavement and mashing it into the rubble. "I never said it had to be today, love; I can work with what you give me," he counters with a smirk that Briar can't stare at for long without blushing. "How's Friday sound? Say...3pm? You wait for me by that corner store we met in the first time." 

Briar is mildly stunned by this man's forwardness; but, he can't find any excuse to say no. He's free all day after his class is over. Silence falls over the two for a moment, before Briar sighs and looks down at his feet. "Okay, fine. I'll go with you to lunch." He turns to go back into the daycare, before his feet stop him. He turns back around to the man standing behind him. "Wait. You know my name, but...I don't know yours. That's not quite fair, is it?"

"No, I suppose it isn't quite fair," he lets out a soft sigh, standing there just a few feet from Briar. "I hope it isn't too cruel of me to make you wait until Friday, then."

With that, he's the one walking off, yelling one last afterthought over his shoulder to the dumbfounded Briar.

"Oh, and don't bring any money, I'm buying!"

**Author's Note:**

> thanks for reading! stay tuned...


End file.
